


Super!Steam

by HappyFunBallXD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 22:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/590541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyFunBallXD/pseuds/HappyFunBallXD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steampunk!AU. The Angel Project was put into motion to save humans from the threat of the Leviathan. When Castiel’s wings break, he asks Dean to fix them. Dean’s still trying to figure out how that drags him into a fight to save the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the ever-wonderful shellygurumi, who is doing her best to whip my writing into shape. <3

Sometimes, Castiel thinks, it might just be better to let humanity get its ass kicked.

Humans are very resourceful when it comes to surviving and getting what they want. Castiel would know; he used to be one. The problem is, humanity doesn't always use their power responsibly. And by 'not always', he means 'never'. He supposed it must have happened since the very beginning. When the first humans evolved enough to make fire and keep predators away, Castiel imagined they were probably dicks about it, swinging torches at every random squirrel that crossed their path. There was a difference between surviving and power for power's sake.

Castiel was sure his superiors meant well. There was, after all, a very real threat looming over them: Leviathans. Biblically speaking, the great sea monster that would appear at the end of times. They differed a little from their original ancestors, the most important difference being the sheer number of them. And from what it seemed so far, their 'end bringing' definition was mostly truth. So Castiel could understand the need to protect. Not only were there powerful creatures out for them, but they had millions of people to think of, all living their daily lives. If they knew about this thing, if they knew what the Leviathans had planned, there would be chaos. And that would only give them the opportunity to strike in the confusion.

The Leviathan would destroy everyone on the planet, there was little doubt about that. They consumed humans and wore their identities, allowing them to move unseen through the rest of the world.

Humans weren't exactly at the top of the food chain anymore.

And so humanity did what humanity always does. When faced with conflict you can't overcome with strength, use cunning. A plan was hatched, using science and technology to overcome weaknesses in power and ability.

Castiel’s mental triade was cut short as something whizzed by his head, barely missing his temple.

Perhaps it was wiser to focus on the battle at hand, rather than wax philosophical about the flaws of humanity.

Out of the Angel Project, four were complete. Michael was the first to be created, and was the more experienced and mature of the group. Lucifer came shortly after, followed closely by Gabriel. Anna and Castiel were brought in at the same time, although Anna had refused the wings and the surgeries, instead managing to escape somehow. They hadn’t seen her since. The last Angel, Balthazar, was on the way, but still recovering from the surgeries that would give him his wings. This left Castiel, Gabriel and Michael, to deal with their wayward second- in- command. Lucifer hadn’t taken well to the experiments done by the engineers of the Project. He’d been changed by them, broken in the mind, no longer believing himself to be anything but the Angel they’d made him to be. He wasn’t going to fight for humanity. On the contrary, he seemed delighted that the Leviathan would take them out. He thought them unworthy of the planet they inhabited.

Lucifer had planned his escape with the help of his Demons. The few humans he tolerated, he called his children, Demons who would be spared when the humans were done away with, if Lucifer was to be believed. Castiel’s superiors had given the order to bring him back. He was far too dangerous to be left alone, and his assistants were to be dealt with as well. ‘Dealt with’ was left open- ended, although the implications were clear to all the Angels. The Demons were expendable, but Lucifer was to be brought back alive.

A harder task than Castiel first thought.

He and Gabriel were currently focused on the two women aiding his escape, while Michael, the most experienced Angel, fought to bring Lucifer in. The woman Castiel fought was dressed in blacks and deep purples, laughing as she fired shot after shot at the Angel’s wings, intent on bringing him to the ground. Meg, he’d heard her referred to as, while the woman in red, hacking at the air as her blades danced with Gabriel’s, was Ruby. Two of Lucifer’s Demons.

Castiel dodged another bullet, missing a shot in the side in favor of it pinging off the metal planks of his artificial wings. Meg was an excellent shot, but Castiel was fast, weaving around a signpost to surprise her, making a grab for the gun.

He could hear blades slicing against one another beside him as Gabriel and Ruby continued to struggle in their own fight. He hadn’t caught sight of Michael or Lucifer since the brawl began, when the two elder Angels had taken to chasing each other high through the skies.

Meg shoved the muzzle of the gun forward suddenly, knocking into Castiel’s cheek. He felt the skin split against it, as well as the burn from the hot metal, but he ignored the pain in favor of ducking out of the way before she pulled the trigger again, intending to blow his face off.

Dropping into a crouch, he swept a leg out, catching Meg off guard and knocking her legs out from under her. She fell with a startled yelp, landing hard on her back. Castiel was up in an instant, his blade a threatening presence against her throat.

Meg only grinned. “Fancy footwork, there, Angel.”

Castiel’s glare was sharp, eyes narrowed. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

Meg’s gaze shifted to his side, only for a moment but it was enough of a tell to tip him off, and he lunged away in time. A sharp dagger grazed his side instead of stabbing into his back as originally planned. Castiel heard the metallic crunch as his wings took the brunt of the damage and the clatter as a few feathers hit the ground.

Ruby twirled her twin blades, smirking at the remaining Angel. Gabriel was nowhere to be found.

Meg was on her feet by then, gun cocking as it aimed straight at him. She winked. “Ten second head start, sweetheart.”

Castiel knew he was outmatched. Angels had increased strength and healing abilities, but they weren’t immortal. A shot from this close of range would cause serious damage, and if he couldn’t heal himself, he wouldn’t make it. He couldn’t take that chance. His only hope was to fall back and regroup with the others. If any were left. He took a step backwards, eyes darting between the Demons and their weapons. His wings flared out as he jerked his shoulders up, triggering the mechanism. They were already damaged from Ruby’s blades, he just hoped they were working well enough to get him back to Chuck for repairs. With any luck, Balthazar would be ready soon, so they could start searching for Michael and Gabriel, or to deal with Lucifer. Castiel hoped the other Angels were still alive.

He took off quickly, not wanting to test Meg’s promise of a head start. He turned once in the air, pushing forward to hurry back to the headquarters where the Angels were based. The more distance he put between himself and the Demons, the better. He heard the noise a split second before he felt something slam into his back, exploding in his wings. He yelled as the mechanics were all but shattered, small pieces raining around him.

And then the Angel fell.

oOoOo

“Fuck!”

Dean yanked his hand back, curling the arm against his chest. The wrench he’d been using clattered to the garage floor noisily. He glared at the motorcycle he’d been working on, its screws rusted stuck by years of neglect. His hand throbbed from where the wrench slid, slamming fingers against the back of the bike. He’d scraped his knuckles on the exhaust, even through his thick work gloves.

He sat back, tossing the gloves from his hands to inspect the damage. Sure enough, blood was welling from scraped patches of skin. The pain wasn’t even as bad as the annoyance at the stubborn screws.

Dean sighed, running his other hand through his short hair, adjusting the goggles across his head. He supposed that was a sign to call it a night. Getting to his feet, his back arched in a stretch that sent his joints popping. The garage was eerily quiet; everyone else had gone home hours ago. Sam and Adam had class early in the morning, and Jess had further to travel to get home than the boys. Even Bobby had gone for the night, tossing Dean the keys and telling him to lock up when he was done. He looked at the clock in the office. If he made good time getting home, he could get in a quick shower before grabbing some food and heading to bed. They had a ship coming in tomorrow morning, and the garage would need all the help it could get.

Dean had just finished locking up, pocketing the keys and throwing his bag over a shoulder. He headed towards his own bike when he heard a noise. Like an explosion, it sizzled through the evening sky. There was a flash of light, brightening the area like a fire. Dean looked up, trying to spot the cause.

What he did find was a large dot, shadowed by the sunset, flailing and getting larger as it fell. Whatever it was, it was falling towards the garage, and fast.

Dean took a step back, contemplating the odds of him catching the falling thing, or if he should steer clear. After watching for a few moments, it got close enough for Dean to make out the flailing limbs of a human.

Fuck.

Dropping his bag on the ground, he dashed forward, trying to figure out where the person would land so he could intercept them. When the other got closer, Dean could see where they were headed, keeping up to try and stay under them. If he could cushion the fall, he might be able to save this person. He didn’t know how high they’d fallen from, but from where he first caught sight of the decent, it wouldn’t be pretty if they hit the ground. Hell, there were no guarantees even WITH Dean’s help. But he couldn’t just do nothing, and he didn’t have anything else to cushion the fall.

The man- because once he was close enough, Dean could tell it was a man that was crashing down- fell limply. Right before he hit the ground, Dean jumped as high as he could, reaching out and gathering the other in his arms. He hoped he could decrease enough of the force to ease the landing and not kill them both. It worked well enough, thankfully, although Dean still crashed to the ground when they landed. His knees hit the dirt, and he took care to keep upright as much as possible. He’d just saved the guy, the last thing he wanted was to crush him.

Dean got to his feet slowly, wincing at the pain in his knees. The guy was heavier than he looked. Probably because he was rolled up in a heap of scrap metal. There were sheets of steel, most of them in pieces, as well as wires and gears, hanging haphazardly. Some of the pieces had scattered around the ground after the man had fallen. Confused, Dean kept his hold on the guy, moving back towards the garage. After a quick juggle with his human baggage so he could get his keys, the door was unlocked. Dean set the unconscious man on the old couch where Dean slept when he stayed too late working. Bobby had dragged it in from his house after one too many mornings of coming in to find Dean passed out on the floor of his office.

He had to set the man on his stomach, until he could get him out of that trash heap. He’d tried to shake it off while he carried the other, but it wouldn’t budge. Now, with his hands free, he found that the collection of gears and mechanics had stabbed through the guy’s back, and was stuck tight. Panicking, Dean looked over the wound. There was no blood, and the guy wasn’t dead- he was still breathing, Dean had checked that first- but the debris wasn’t moving, even when Dean gave it a tentative pull.

Closer inspection resulted in only more questions. The mechanism was stuck on purpose, it seemed. There was a neat hole cut in both the man’s vest and shirt to allow the metal to be attached. The holes in his back where the metal was stuck was lined with brass, seemingly fused to the skin.

Dean sat back, running a hand through his hair and adjusting his goggles once again. He let out a low whistle. “Buddy, what the hell are you?”

He didn’t know what to do with the wings for now, and even if they were broken, they didn’t seem to cause the man any pain. So Dean let them be for the moment, instead looking the guy over. He was dressed nice enough, something like Sammy or Adam would wear to their classes. It would’ve looked pretty classy, if there hadn’t been small rips and tears in them, or if the guy’s dark brown hair hadn’t been a windswept mess. Freefalling from wherever he’d fallen from would have that effect.

Dean wondered where the hell he HAD come from. At first he’d figured the guy had fallen from a crossing airship, but now he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t remember any passing by, and with the garage’s tracking gear, he would’ve known. Did he really manage to fly with those metal wings?

Confused, he figured it’d be the first thing he’d ask when the man woke up. He continued his study of the patient currently resting on his sofa. There was a splotch of red on the guy’s side, and a bullet-shaped hole through his clothes. Dean worried for a moment that he’d been shot, but when he untucked the shirt and peeked under it, there was no wound.

There was something seriously weird going on here, and this was AFTER the already unbelievable situation of a man with metal wings falling from the sky.

Other than a few fading bruises, the guy seemed uninjured as far as Dean could tell. He didn’t really know how to get the other’s shirt off around the wings to check in detail. Dean looked at the man’s face. He figured if the other was in any pain, his face would show discomfort. But his face was even and relaxed, like he’d just taken a nap, rather than taken a leap through the sky.

The guy was easy on the eyes, Dean wasn’t afraid to admit that. Lean, athletic build and one hell of a case of sex hair, Dean could appreciate that.

He reached up, twirling a lock of the guy’s hair around his finger thoughtfully. He wondered if anyone was looking for the man. He was dressed nice enough, surely someone was missing him.

Dean lost his train of thought as something circled his wrist and squeezed, hard. He hissed, his hand dropping from the man’s hair. The guy’s fingers gripped his wrist harder and Dean felt the bones grinding. He tried to tug it away, staring at his face. The man’s eyes opened to a bright blue, glaring hard.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” he croaked, and whoa, his voice was a lot deeper than Dean thought it would be. It sent a chill down his spine. Or maybe that was the feel of his wrist slowly breaking.

“You fell out of the sky. I caught you. You’re at the Singer Airship Garage. And if you break my wrist, I’m gonna be really pissed and out of a job.”

The man studied his face for a moment, as if judging his honesty. Then finally, he let Dean go. The mechanic cradled his arm to his chest, rubbing at the wrist. There was sure to be a bruise there later.

“My apologies,” the man replied in an even, gruff tone. “I was in battle when I lost consciousness. I wasn’t sure if you were with them or not.”

Dean sat back on his heels. “In battle? Like, on a ship or something?”

He looked confused for a moment. “No, on the ground. I took flight to escape, but I was shot down.”

“So those hunks of scrap metal on your back really are wings?” He blinked. “Or WERE at any rate.”

The man frowned again, twisting his head to get a glance at his back. He took in what he could of the wings, broken gears, hanging wires and metal feathers in shattered pieces.

“They’re ruined,” he breathed out, momentarily stunned.

“Whatever hit you, looks like it went for the wings. Probably saved your life in the long run. If it did that much damage to metal, I’d hate to see what your face would’ve looked like.”

He shook his head. “My face would have healed. These...” he trailed off, looking like someone kicked his puppy for a moment before his face hardened. He looked at Dean. “You’re a mechanic, correct?”

Dean frowned a bit at the sudden subject change. “Yeah. Dean Winchester, head mechanic of Singer Garage.”

He nodded once. “My name is Castiel. I’m an Angel. And I have work for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Bullshit.”

Dean stared at Castiel, face deadpan. An Angel? Really? Did he think Dean was born yesterday?

“I’m being completely serious, Mr. Winchester.”

“Dean,” he corrected automatically.

“I need my wings repaired as soon as possible. So unless you can point me in the direction of a more skilled mechanic that can handle it, I’m asking you to take on the job.”

Dean scowled. “Bossy much? I’ll fix your wings, Cas, but I’m not doing it right now. Shop’s closed. We’ll open again in the morning.”

Castiel sat up, his broken wings clattering noisily around him on the threadbare cushions. “Well what am I supposed to do until then? I can’t get home unless I fly. Where am I going to stay?”

Dean shrugged. “You’re the Angel, you think of something.” He’d changed his mind about this guy. However nice he’d looked when he was unconscious, when he was awake he was pushy and demanding. Two things Dean had trouble accepting in people who needed something from him.

Castiel was quiet for a moment before his frown hardened further. “Fine.”

With that, he turned away from Dean completely, reaching behind himself to press at the brass lining his shoulder blades. Something clicked, and the tattered wing came free. He set it on the sofa, dislodging the other in the same manner before returning his attention to the mechanic. “Is it alright if I leave them here for the night, or should I carry them around while I wait?”

“You can leave ‘em.” Dean grumbled, getting to his feet. Grudgingly, he asked, “Where are you headed?”

The Angel stood, adjusting his clothes. “Nowhere. I can’t go home, so I’ll stay outside until you open.”

Dean sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t let the guy stay out here all night, no matter how much he disliked him. But Bobby would literally kill him if he let the guy stay inside.

“Not happening.” He turned on a booted heel, gesturing for Castiel to follow him as he left the office.

Castiel obliged, frowning. “What now? Am I not even allowed to wait outside?”

Dean led them out of the garage, kneeling to pick up his discarded bag. Castiel waited, arms crossed as Dean locked the door once again. Then Dean turned to the Angel. “No, you’re not. You’re gonna come stay with me tonight, and I’ll bring you back here tomorrow morning and start working on your wings.”

Castiel paused, brows furrowing. “Stay with you?”

“Yeah. It’s only a couch, but it’s better than waiting outside, right?”

Castiel stared at him, scowling like it was a hard decision to make, between a warm house with a not- too- shabby couch versus waiting out in the cold all night. Dean sighed, grabbing him by the wrist and making the choice for him. He pulled the Angel across the garage’s landing strip to where his bike was parked.

“You ever ridden on one of these before?”

Castiel looked at it dubiously. “Is it safe?”

Dean snorted, climbing on. “Of course it’s safe. Now get on behind me.”

Castiel didn’t move for a few moments, and Dean was beginning to think he’d have to coax the Angel to ride with him when he finally moved, sitting astride the bike behind Dean. He wobbled a bit, distrustful of such an unbalanced machine.

“You’re gonna want to hang on,” Dean said helpfully, hitting the kickstand with a foot. He started the bike, revving it a few times.

“To what?”

“To me.”

Castiel frowned. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself.” Dean pulled his legs up, easing the bike off the concrete of the tarmac, speeding off.

Castiel let out a surprised yelp as he was nearly flung off the back of the bike, instinctively grabbing at Dean’s hips to hold on. He wanted to yell at the mechanic, chastise him for making him ride this machine, but he’d learned through flying that fast speeds aren’t a good time to open one’s mouth. Gabriel had gotten a mouthful of pigeon once for just such an action.

Instead, he closed his eyes, kept his hold on Dean and imagined he was flying again. With the state his wings were in, and Dean’s total lack of knowledge about the flight mechanics involved, Castiel worried that it’d be a very long time before he saw the sky again.

oOoOo

Dean’s house was small, but well- kept. He parked the bike in front of the porch, and Castiel released his death grip from Dean’s sides. He slid from the bike, looking even more windswept than before. Dean hid a grin behind a cough, leading Castiel up the stairs and into the house.

It was warm inside, and smelled like cooking spices. Dean closed the door behind them, kicking his boots off and tossing his gloves and goggles on an end table beside the door.

“It’s about time, Dean, I thought you’d wind up on Bobby’s couch again all night.” Sam poked his head out of the entryway to the living room, stopping short as he took sight of Castiel. “Oh...hello?”

“Sorry Sammy, something came up. Or came down, I should say.” He ran a hand through his hair, straightening out the strands the goggles pushed up. “Sammy, this is Castiel. Cas, this is my brother Sam.”

Sam offered a polite, if not slightly confused smile, and Castiel nodded in greeting. Sam seemed a lot more cultured than his brother. Where Dean was rugged and course, Sam was quiet and thoughtful. Castiel felt more at ease around him immediately.

“Are you hungry?” Sam slid between the Angel and his brother, leading Castiel out of the hallway. They made their way to the kitchen, where Adam was at the table, scooping chili out of a bowl. Sam sat Castiel down at the table, moving to make him a plate.

Dean got his own portion, taking a seat. Sam joined them, setting Castiel’s bowl in front of him before starting on his own. The Angel gripped his spoon, slightly confused by the whole ordeal. He didn’t even notice the blonde staring at him.

“Um... who’s that?”

“Oh!” Sam dropped his spoon in the bowl, chili splattering on the table. “This is Castiel. Castiel, our other brother, Adam.”

“Half,” Adam added. “What’s he doing here?”

“I’m doing a job for him, but he didn’t have anywhere to stay for the night,” Dean said in between bites.

Adam’s face lit up. “Oh, so you’re a pilot?”

“Not... exactly.” Castiel toyed with his fork. “I don’t fly ships.”

“Oh,” the blond looked a little confused, but pressed on. “So you’re not part of that big ship job we’re doing tomorrow?”

“Shit,” Dean’s spoon clinked against the bowl as he dropped it.

Adam narrowed his eyes at him. “You forgot about the ship and took on another job?”

“It was an emergency case, and he’s pushy--”

“I am not,” Castiel frowned, offended.

“C’mon, Dean, this thing is huge, we’re not gonna be able to do it without you.”

“I just need to take a look at ‘em...”

“Them? There’s more than one?” Sam spoke up.

“They kinda come in a pair.”

“So then why didn’t this guy stay with his partner and wait until we got the ship done? You’ve got priorities, Dean. Responsibilities. You can’t just drop this!”

“No offense, Castiel...” Sam held out a hand to their guest.

“I know!”

“Dean, it’s of the utmost importance that I get back home as soon as possible--”

“Will all of you shut up for ten frigging seconds?!” Dean slammed his fist against the table, bowls and silverware clattering. All three stared at him, waiting for him to make a decision. He took a calming breath, running a hand through his hair. He turned to his brothers, pointing at Adam first.

“You know that I can’t just give up a job when it all but falls into my lap.” The finger moved across the table to Sam. “You know the garage is my first priority, and I’m not gonna do anything to jeopardize that.” Then it was Castiel’s turn. “And I don’t even know if I can do this job.”

The three were still staring at him in surprise, waiting for him to finish. He rubbed his chin.

“Okay. First thing in the morning, we all head out. Adam and Sam, you can handle the prep work without me babying you. Cas, I’ll take a look at that junk heap as soon as we get in. If there’s no way I can fix it, we can get you to a mechanic who can. Is everyone frigging satisfied?’

After a bit of grumbling, Sam and Adam nodded, going back to their food. Dean turned to Castiel, only to find the Angel glaring at him. “What?”

“I don’t appreciate nicknames. They assume a familiarity that I don’t have with anyone.” It wasn’t exactly true. Balthazar and Gabriel called him Cassie, as had Lucifer on occasion. But he didn’t like how Dean could just assume to know him after barely an hour, and an aggravating hour at that.

“Well that’s just kinda tough, Cas, cuz that’s what I do.”

They finished their meal in relative silence. Castiel ate his bowl more out of etiquette than real hunger. Angels had been modified to go without food for days on end, in case they were ever trapped in their fight with Leviathan and couldn’t reach food or drink. Dean went back for two more bowls, and Castiel resisted the urge to make a face.

Finally dinner was finished. Adam took care of the dishes, while Sam went to his room to study. Dean took Castiel to the living room.

It looked comfortable, like the rest of the house that Castiel had seen. Worn around the edges, but cozy in a way that spoke of years of being well-loved. The room was lined with bookshelves, some containing old, dusty books, while others held various knick knacks and trinkets. There was a couch in the center, worn but sturdy-looking. Castiel’s eyes were next drawn to the large radio against the wall, chest high from the floor up, and deep polished red wood in color.

Dean moved to the radio, switching it on more out of habit than any real urge to listen to something. A song played low on the speaker, volume turned down to background noise level. He offered Castiel a seat on the chair, which the Angel took. Then he pushed aside the collection of books and papers on the table to pull the top off, revealing a chest on the inside. He took a few blankets out of there before replacing the lid, moving to make up the couch for Castiel to sleep on.

Castiel had been quiet since their heated discussion at dinner. He wasn’t used to being a guest in anyone’s home, let alone someone he barely knew. He remembered going home with Balthazar once, before the surgeries were done, and that was awkward enough with just his friend. This was another situation entirely. He wasn’t sure what to say when you were staying the night with someone based on the fact that they didn’t want you sitting outside their place of business all night. So he had mostly kept to himself.

Dean didn’t seem to mind the quiet so much, at least on Castiel’s end. He busied himself with making up the couch, humming along to the radio as he worked. When he was done, he turned to the Angel sitting in his living room, hands on his hips.

“You gonna be okay here for the night?”

Castiel blinked, startled out of his thoughts by the other’s voice. He nodded. “It’s fine. Thank you. I don’t even need to sleep, but it’s preferable to sitting outside all night.”

“You don’t sleep?” Dean frowned, taking a seat on the couch’s arm.

“I do,” Castiel clarified, “But it’s not completely necessary. I can go without if I need to, for at least a week, with no adverse effects.”

“Huh... I guess that’s an Angel thing?”

Castiel nodded. He glanced at Dean, who was still staring at him. He raised an eyebrow in question.

“I just think it’s weird, is all. I didn’t think Angels existed, then here you come, falling out of the sky.”

“It’s... slightly different, the old stories about angels and cherubs. It’s a little less magical when your Angels are created in a lab.”

Dean bit his lip. “And really creepy, when you put it that way.”

“Perhaps.” Castiel didn’t really consider it eerie anymore. He may have had his moments when he was first changed, but he’d grown so used to it by now, it was hard to remember that he was once a normal human like Dean or his brothers.

The mechanic started stacking the books back on the tabletop, not looking at the Angel as he spoke. “So what, Angels were made to not need sleep? Do you eat? You ate dinner...”

Castiel sighed, folding his hands in his lap. “We were made to be soldiers to fight against an inhuman enemy. We were made to not need the basics that humans can’t go without. While we can still enjoy such things, like food and proper sleep, it doesn’t shut us down if we don’t have it.”

Dean sat back on his heels, a small frown on his features. “So what you’re saying is that you don’t consider yourself human anymore?”

The dark- haired man tilted his head in thought. After a moment to consider the question, he lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug. “I don’t.”

“But you were...”

“I may have been at one point. But I’ve been changed.”

“You’re still a human, Cas. Just because you’ve got a fancy metabolism and can stay awake for awhile, doesn’t change that.”

The curious look turned into a scowl. “Don’t presume to know what I am from a few sparse conversations, Dean. You asked me a question, and I answered it. And I asked you not to call me that.”

“And I told YOU that’s just too bad,” Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re thinking dangerously, Cas. If you start thinking you’re something else, the lines blur. Soon you’ll start to think that humans are a totally different species. A different species that doesn’t matter so much.”

“What are you getting at?”

Dean fiddled with a leather- bound book absently. “When you think you’re not human, then humans’ lives start to drop on your priority list.”

Castiel stared at him, brows furrowed. “Are you saying that because I’m an Angel, I would think myself more important than the humans I was created to save?”

Dean shrugged. “Just saying it’s a possibility.”

Castiel’s hands clenched into tight fists in his lap. “It was that kind of thinking that drove Lucifer insane. We were ordered to deal with him. So if you’re worried about me falling to his level, don’t. I would be dealt with in the same way by the remaining Angels.”

Dean made a face. “Is that supposed to make me feel better, knowing it’s happened before?”

Castiel’s jaw was tight around his next words, staring at Dean as he said them. “I couldn’t care less whether the words comfort you. I’m merely informing you that I have my orders, and they’re to protect humans, not turn on them.”

The mechanic got to his feet with a huff, boots heavy on the floor as he moved to flick the radio off. The room was plunged into a tense silence, and he got to the living room doorway before speaking again. “You’re a crap job at reassuring people, Cas.”

“My name is Castiel!” he snapped back.

Dean ignored him, ducking out of the room, and Castiel gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to throw something in frustration. He forced himself to calm down, focusing on his own breathing as he’d been taught to do. Michael had trained him in keeping calm, in not letting his emotions get the better of him. For the most part, Castiel was calm and collected. It seemed that Dean had ways of getting past even those cool, practiced barriers.

Dean was exceptionally trying at Castiel’s patience, but it wouldn’t do to lose his cool. Especially not while a guest in their home. Castiel’s social skills may have been rusty, but he knew starting a fight with someone who’s couch you were sleeping on was rude, at least.

So instead he took it out on the pillow as he flopped onto the couch, fluffing it extra hard. It didn’t really help. He was just about to pull the blanket over himself and force himself to sleep when someone knocked on the wooden door frame. Castiel sat up, fully expecting to snap something at Dean, but it was Sam standing there instead.

The taller Winchester smiled. “Hey, Castiel. I figured you might want something more comfortable to sleep in...”

He held out a small pile of clothes. The Angel stared at him for a moment, both curious and surprised. He quickly snapped out of it, getting up to take the clothes before Sam started thinking he wasn’t interested.

“Thank you,” he replied, lips switching into a slight smile. His anger at the older Winchester was forgotten in the kindness of the younger. “I appreciate it.”

Sam nodded. “Not a problem. I’ll see you in the morning, I guess.”

“Yes. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, you too.” With a wave, Sam retreated back out of the living room, leaving Castiel alone once more.

When he was sure no one else would come in the room to have a talk, Castiel quickly changed into the given clothes. They were much too big, obviously Sam’s size on the Angel’s slighter frame, but they were worn and comfortable, so he wasn’t going to complain. He left his own clothes in a folded pile on the table, after inspecting them. Both his shirt and vest had a number of rips and holes in them from his fight with the Demons, including a rather large hole in the side where he’d been stabbed by Ruby’s knife. Until he could get his wings fixed and go home, however, they would have to do.

Feeling a bit better, Castiel slipped under the blanket, letting his eyes close and drift into sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

When Castiel woke the next morning, it was to the sounds of clattering in the kitchen. It was early, he knew, and for a moment he wondered why anyone would be up making breakfast at this hour. Gabriel was banned from the kitchen after the infamous Egg Incident, and it was too early for even Michael to be awake, let alone Balthazar. The sun wasn't even up yet.  
  
He moved to turn over, groaning at the noise. But halfway through his turn, he ran out of bed, rolling right onto the floor with a surprised yelp and a thud. He quickly blinked his eyes open, glaring at the... couch?  
  
Oh right.  
  
He sat up, blankets tangled around his legs and Sam's too- big shirt hanging off his shoulder.  
  
Adam appeared in the doorway, spatula in hand and a concerned look on his face. "You alright?"  
  
Castiel nodded, dragging a hand through his hair.  
  
"Sorry if I woke you up," Adam continued. "Usually Sam and Dean sleep through all the noise, I forgot I had to be quiet today. Personally, I think they worked too close to the engines for too long. I could run a parade through here and the only thing Sam would notice is the mess."  
  
Castiel blinked. That was far too many words for how early it was. "It's fine. It was mostly a matter of forgetting I was on a couch and not a bed."  
  
Adam nodded in understanding. "You can go back to sleep if you want. I'll be quieter."  
  
The Angel got to his feet, careful to keep hold of the loose waistband of his borrowed pants. "It's fine. I've slept enough."  
  
"Bathroom's upstairs if you wanted to clean up," the boy gestured to the stairs with his spatula. "There's towels in the cabinets. Dean fixed your clothes last night, they're on the chair."  
  
Castiel frowned. "My clothes?"  
  
"Yeah, last night. They had a huge tear in the side."  
  
"He fixed them?"  
  
Adam arched a brow. "That's what I said. Believe it or not, he's pretty good with a needle and thread too."  
  
Castiel went to the chair along the wall, where, sure enough, his clothes were folded neatly on the seat. He picked up the vest, inspecting it. Tiny stitches ran along the side, closing up the hole Ruby's knife had left. It wasn't the most professional work he'd ever seen, but it was a good deal better than what it had been.  
  
"Of course," Adam continued with a sneaky grin, "if he knew I told you about that, he'd hang me by my ankles off the side of the Impala. So try not to mention it to him, yeah?"  
  
The Angel nodded absently, picking up his pile of clothing. After he and Dean had fought last night, the last thing he'd expected was for the mechanic to do something nice for him. It seemed like each time he had Dean figured out as a crass, rude jerk not worth his time, the man would do or say something to make him rethink the whole thing.  
  
"Anyway," the blond turned on a heel, back toward the kitchen. "You go get dressed. Coffee'll be ready when you're done."  
  
"Thank you," Castiel replied, padding his way upstairs. It was quiet in the early morning dimness. There were four doors in the short hall, and for a split second, the Angel worried he'd choose the wrong one and walk in on one of the sleeping Winchesters. But the door at the end of the hall was open, revealing the bathroom.  
  
He slid inside quickly, latching the door behind him. Setting his clothes on the sink counter, he stared at his reflection in the small mirror. He looked exhausted. As an Angel, he didn't need to sleep near as often as a normal human, but when he did allow himself to sleep, he usually woke up groggy and disoriented, like a human after a long night. It was the reason he usually didn't sleep until his body demanded it. After everything that had happened, the fight, the crash and dealing with the social interaction involved with people as spirited as the Winchesters, Castiel was left feeling as though he hadn't slept in months. It was no small wonder he'd dropped off last night.  
  
And yet, even dead tired, he'd never slept through someone moving about in the same room as him. It was part of their training, to be alert of every noise, even when asleep. Even so, Dean had no trouble getting through the living room not just once, but twice, collecting the clothes and replacing them in the chair when he was done fixing them.  
  
It left Castiel feeling a bit uneasy. He poured some water into the sink, splashing it over his face. Angels didn't sweat like humans, so a long clean up wasn't necessary. But the water was cool on his face, easing him into a bit more wakefulness. After a few calming breaths, he chalked the whole thing up to needing more sleep to gain his strength back after the fight and using his healing abilities on himself. Up until their mission to collect Lucifer, Castiel's only experience with using his abilities was during training. The real- world application was far more draining.  
  
He changed back into his own clothes, hand running thoughtful over the stitches on the side. He folded up Sam's clothes when he finished, leaving them on the counter for lack of an idea of where to put them. After one more glance in the mirror to fix his tie and make sure everything was in place, he exited the bathroom.  
  
And nearly ran right into Dean, who stood in the doorway with his hand raised to knock. He blinked a few times, looking just as surprised as Castiel, while still managing to look at least half- asleep at the same time.  
  
The Angel ducked out of the doorway, pointedly ignoring Dean's half dressed state. He must have just rolled out of bed, his hair was sticking up in all different directions, and Castiel's fingers itched to run his fingers through it. To straighten it out, of course. It looked ridiculous. Although looking away from his hair only led to looking at the rest of him. Dean was wearing only a simple pair of sleep pants, shirtless and completely uncaring. Not that his normal attire was much better, but at least it was something.   
  
Dean had the nerve to catch his eyes, a smirk curling on his lips. "Mornin' Cas."  
  
Castiel felt his face warm against his will, obviously caught staring. Not that he was staring. Dean was attractive, but that didn't mean anything. Castiel was above such things. So he huffed out a breath, frowning. "Good morning."  
  
Dean’s eyes darted to Castiel’s side, most likely checking the sewing job he’d done. He didn’t say anything else, just nodded once before ducking past him, into the bathroom. The door closed between them, leaving the Angel to glare at it. If Dean didn’t want to talk about their argument last night, or the fact that he’d fixed Castiel’s clothes, that was fine. Castiel didn’t much feel like speaking with him anyway. The sooner he got his wings fixed, the sooner he never had to speak to the likes of Dean Winchester ever again.  
  
He pressed a few invisible creases from his vest, his hands feeling the need for activity of some sort. The clothes must have been ironed as well, to be in such a tidy state after the long day he’d had. Just how much trouble had Dean gone through for him?  
  
Refusing to think about it anymore, Castiel made his way back downstairs, where Sam had joined Adam in the kitchen.  
  
oOoOo  
  
The ride to the garage was much smoother than the trip from it. Dean rode his bike, but Castiel refused to go with him, riding with Sam and Adam in the car instead. Sam went on about how lucky it was that they worked in a garage, and how he never would’ve been able to afford a car otherwise, since cars were hard to come by. He was being polite, Castiel realized, trying to include him in their conversations, but Castiel didn’t particularly feel like talking. He listened to the car’s steam engine hiss and gurgle, and to Sam and his step-brother discuss the day’s plan, once they figured out he wasn’t going to contribute to the conversation.  
  
It didn’t take long to reach the garage, even if Castiel was anxious to get his wings fixed and get home. He was worried about the other Angels; he didn’t know how they had fared after the fight. With any luck, he’d meet up with them soon. He didn’t want to worry them as well, being gone so long.  
  
Dean was waiting for them with an older, bearded man when Sam parked the car. The man wore coveralls like Dean, although his were fixed correctly, and a worn blue cap on his head. He frowned curiously at Castiel as the three stepped out of the car.  
  
“Bobby, this is Castiel,” Dean slid up to the Angel’s side, looping a casual arm around his shoulders, even as Castiel glared up at him in indignation. “Cas, this is Bobby. He runs the garage here.”  
  
Bobby gave him a once- over. “Dean tells me he’s doing some emergency work for you this morning.”  
  
“Yes, sir,” Castiel nodded, easing his way out from under Dean’s arm. “It’s extremely important, and I thank you for understanding. I know you’re busy...”  
  
Bobby snorted, pushing the cap back on his forehead. “Not a matter of me bein’ understanding. When this boy gets it in his head to help somebody, there ain’t no stoppin’ him.”  
  
Dean cleared his throat roughly, looking to his brothers. “Why don’t you two help Bobby with the rest of the setup? I’ll get Cas up and running again and then be back to help out.”  
  
Sam and Adam nodded, heading into the hanger. Bobby crossed his arms, staring at Castiel a moment longer. “Saw those wings of yours in my office this morning.”  
  
Castiel tensed.  
  
“Heard of Angels before, but I didn’t think they were actually real. Never thought I’d see one either. I dunno if we can actually help you out, but if anyone can, it’s Dean.”  
  
The mechanic in question looked a little warm in the face. “C’mon Bobby, don’t sing my praises yet, I don’t even know if I can fix ‘em.”  
  
The older man huffed out a laugh, clapping Dean on the back before turning to follow the others into the hanger. Castiel could see a large ship in the back, but the rest of the space had been cleared for the new arrivals.   
  
“Ready to get started?” Dean spoke up, toying with the tied sleeve of his coveralls. Castiel arched a brow. Dean didn’t look like the cocky, smirking man he’d fought with last night. He looked a good deal more shy, as if Bobby’s words had embarrassed him.   
  
Castiel didn’t comment on the change, however, merely nodded. Dean led him inside, back to the office he’d left Castiel’s wings in last night, gesturing for him to have a seat on the sofa.  Castiel complied, while Dean pondered over the metal wings. Dean poked and prodded at the metal sheets, pulled at the frayed wires and turned the broken gears, all while Castiel fought back the urge to snap at the man. As much as Castiel hated the fact, he needed Dean’s help if he was going to fly again anytime soon.  
  
“Well,” Dean said, finally breaking the tense silence in the office. “You’re fucked.”  
  
Castiel balked. “I beg your pardon?”  
  
“I’ve never seen anything like ‘em before. I’ve got no frame of reference to work from. I don’t even know how you can fly with these things.” Dean shrugged, moving one of the longer steel feathers back and forth on its frame.  
  
Castiel sighed, rubbing his temple. He wasn’t sure if Angels were supposed to get headaches, but he could certainly feel one coming on. From his seat on the couch, he tried his best to remain patient as he explained the basic mechanics to the human. “It works more on the principle of a controlled glide than actual flight. Our wingspan would have to be enormous to accommodate true flight, not to mention very free-moving and articulated.”  
  
“So how does it work? You just stretch them out and drift? Like a sugar glider?”  
  
Castiel scowled at him. “It’s more complicated than that. The wings themselves aren’t made to do more than glide. It’s the mechanisms close to the back that produce the air that the wings glide on. We’re not just depending on the day’s breezes to fly, we’re making our own currents to float on.”  
  
Dean stared at him, eyes widening. “I don’t think I know how to fix something like that.”  
  
The Angel sighed. “Somehow, I’m not surprised.”  
  
“I mean, the wing part, yeah, I could fix that no problem,” he continued, ignoring the jab at his skills. “But I don’t know anything about wind-producing mechanics. I fix airships, but they still depend on engines and steam. This is something completely different. I’ve never heard of anything like this before, so I doubt you’ll get anyone around here that you could trust not to send you spiralling right back out of the sky.”  
  
“Well then what am I supposed to do, exactly?” Staring at the pile of metal on the floor, Castiel’s shoulders slumped. He didn’t know why he’d held out so much hope that Dean could help him. If it were something just any human could do, everyone would have wings.  
  
Crossing his arms, Dean leaned against the doorway. Even with the door closed, the pair could hear the sounds of the airships coming in, ready to be worked on. Bobby was yelling something at the others, too muffled to hear. “I’m not sure. When you have custom work that needs fixed, it’s best to take it back to the person who did it originally. They’re the ones who’ll know it inside and out.”  
  
“But without the wings, I have no way of getting back home to have them looked at.” Castiel rubbed his face with a hand, huffing out a breath as he tried to think.  
  
“Hitch a ride, I guess.” Dean pushed off the doorway, reaching to open the door. “You can think things over in here. I’ve gotta get out there and help them.”  
  
Castiel nodded absently, not even watching as Dean left him alone in the office. He could get a ride back home. It was about day’s journey from where he’d wound up, which wasn’t too far, considering what it could have been. After tracking Lucifer’s escape, and the fight with Ruby and Meg, and the fall, he could have wound up in some unknown small town without a road to travel on. Or even worse, the middle of the ocean. So in all respects, he hadn’t gotten that bad of a deal.  
  
After some time to mentally debate and come to a conclusion, Castiel got up from his seat on the couch. He gathered up the remains of his broken wings as best he could, carrying the heap in his arms as he left the office.  
  
Everyone was busy in the main part of the garage, working on the pair of ships now parked in the empty spaces. Castiel could see Bobby, Sam, Adam and a woman he hadn’t met on deck of one of the ships. They seemed to be fixing a tear in one of the main sails. Dean was nowhere to be found.  
  
Castiel slid along the far wall, eager to leave quietly and not disturb them from their work. He’d just sneak out, get into town and find a way back home. Hopefully he could get the train somehow.  
  
Something fell in his path from the deck of the ship, startling him from his thoughts. Dean stood with his arms crossed, grinning. “Going somewhere?”  
  
“As a matter of fact, yes,” he snapped, straightening up and composing himself. “I’m going home, since you obviously couldn’t help me.”  
  
The mechanic’s face fell, arching a brow. “You have a way to get home?”  
  
“Not really, but I can manage.”  
  
Dean sighed. “Look, Cas, just hold on a bit. We can figure something out.”  
  
“What’s going on?” Adam peered over the edge of the closest airship.  
  
“I was just leaving,” Castiel frowned, hugging his ruined wings closer to his chest.  
  
“Oh...well, nice to meet you.”  
  
“He’s not leaving yet,” Dean snapped.  
  
Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “And why not?”  
  
“Because my reputation as a mechanic is at stake here, and I don’t care if you’re a stuck-up, pretentious Angel, I’m not gonna leave someone to hitchhike home, you’ll probably get murdered by some crazy person you were naive enough to ride with.”  
  
“Despite what you may think, Winchester, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”  
  
“Yeah?” Dean challenged. “Like you didn’t take a ride home with some random stranger last night, and stayed at his place? I could’ve left you stabbed in a ditch somewhere!”  
  
“That’s hardly a comforting thought for someone who’s trying to get me to stay!”  
  
“Okay!” Adam snapped, interrupting the two. He rubbed his temple with a growl. “Look, as much fun as watching you two go at it would be, Dean’s got a point, Castiel. It’s not safe to try and get home that way.”  
  
Castiel opened his mouth to argue, but was quickly silenced as the boy continued.  
  
“If you can wait just a little longer, once we get done here, I’ve got a run to make. I can take you where you need to go.”  
  
Dean turned to his step-brother. “Are you serious?”  
  
“What, you’ve got a better idea?”  
  
Castiel smiled up at Adam, nodding his head. “I can wait. Thank you.”  
  
“We’re not running a taxi service here!”  
  
“Give it a rest, Dean,” Sam’s attention had been caught by the argument, leaning against the ship’s rail. “You wanted him to get home safe, Adam’s offering to do that. What’s the problem?”  
  
Dean opened his mouth, before shutting it, not finding a good reason to argue with. “I just don’t think Bobby would be okay with running off course.”  
  
“Didn’t I just say I’d help the boy?” Bobby growled from behind the mechanic, giving him a harmless backhand to the head.  
  
“Ow! Jeez, Bobby!” Dean curled up and away, rubbing his head. “Fine, you’re all against me, whatever.”  
  
Castiel smiled. He was going home, and Dean was getting his karmic comeback. Things were finally looking up.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 **  
**


End file.
